ingers, not because of the dominating mind that controlled them, but
because of the generous spirit that treats a conquered enemy--even a
dog--as an honorable antagonist, not an abject slave.

There had seemed to be a sudden comprehension on the part of the dog,
like the clearing of a distorting mist. He realized in the tone of the
man's voice the recognition and appreciation of qualities which stand
not alone for unquenchable hatred, but for undying fidelity as well; and
when "Scotty's" hand fell upon his head, and gently stroked the soft
sable muzzle, Jack McMillan had not only met a master, but he had made a
friend.

"But Fisher is quite different from Jack. There was never anything petty
about him. Even his hatred had something impressive about it, for he
fought to kill, and was never snarling and underhanded. You always knew
where you stood with him. While Fisher is not at all dangerous, he has
many undesirable traits that are difficult to overcome. He shirked all
the way up from town. That may have been the fault of his training, or
possibly he is naturally lazy; that is what I want to find out. At any
rate nagging does not seem to worry him in the least."

The Woman came out of the house pulling on her fur gloves. "What do you
say," she asked Allan, "to a spin over to Mary's Igloo? Father Bernard
has all sorts of native curios there that I should like to see, and the
day is right for a drive."

"Fine idea," agreed the Big Man. "And Ben and I will follow with as many
of Pete's huskies as we think we can manage without being slated for the
hospital. We might try the Yellow Peril in the lead."

"In that case," the Woman responded rather grimly, "you will probably be
slated for the cemetery instead. Why don't you get a couple of reindeer
from the camp just below? They may not be so fast, but they are surely
safe, and one feels so picturesque behind them, with all their gay felt
collars and trappings."

"Scotty" whistled for the dogs, but Fisher was not to be seen. He had
gone back into the stable to doze on the hay, his favorite pastime.
Again and again the whistle failed to gain any response. The other dogs
had all stepped into place before the sled; when at last Fisher,
reluctant in coming, meditated a moment, and then, in open rebellion,
darted down the steep banks into the overflow of the Springs. The water,
a strange freak of nature in the Arctic, was very warm, and deep enough
so that he had to swim; and